


The Weeping One in the Mirror

by telethia



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Possession, Torture Mentions, somebody take these children away from me I'm hurting them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8405674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telethia/pseuds/telethia
Summary: When an unknown entity takes hold of Adrien's body, it is left up to Chloé to save her childhood friend from himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It’s almost Halloween. I’m listening to creepy songs, reading creepy books, and watching creepy movies. Coming up with stuff like this is inevitable, really.  
> But hey, it's just an experiment. I will be happy to continue this if gets a good reception.  
> I’m not a native English speaker, please help me out if you see any mistakes, your feedback is much appreciated!

Heavy air, dark clouds and the unmistakable scent of rain crowded the streets of Paris.

Chat Noir was patrolling on one of the many roofs of the typical parisians houses in the centre of the city, his boots producing a metallic sound whenever he would take a step forward. His green eyes watched as pedestrians made their way back home, some coming back from a hard day of work, some from a joyful meeting with someone they loved. There was no rush in the city today: even the usually aggressive drivers of the Monday late afternoon were taking their sweet time going down the usual route, stopping every now and then to let some kid cross the road.

Everything was calm, and yet he found himself so deeply disturbed by such tranquility.

There had been something in the back of his mind, a tingling sensation that had accompanied him throughout the entire day. He couldn’t say it was a light sort of headache, as it didn’t actually cause him any pain, but it was there, and he could not avoid thinking about it from time to time. He had found concentrating extremely hard during class, as his gaze would automatically shift on a particular spot on the window at the opposite side of the room. Even now, as he made his way towards his meeting with Ladybug, he would surprise himself slowly changing direction in his steps, not walking straight. His head would still be turned towards a part of the city he didn’t know so well, and he could not help but wonder if that was the same direction he had been staring at that morning as well. His own body seemed attracted to this random place, whatever it may be, and that troubled him as he would not even notice himself straying off his path.

What worried him the most, however, was the omnipresent sensation of something left undone, the sick little itch in that same spot that would drive him insane. He could feel his own fingertips tingle, impatient to do that something that he so desperately needed to do.

He had tried to brush this sensation off, he had tried to tell himself that there was nothing to worry about and that it was probably only some lack of sleep, but by the fourth period of class he had decided to interrogate Plagg in the bathroom. While describing his symptoms, the black cat had been strangely silent, only asking him what day it was. He had purred after he had told him it was the 31st of October.

“You’ll be fine, just keep yourself off graveyards and stuff.”

He had almost jumped out of his skin at that. His kwami had seen his reaction and had continued talking, his bored expression never leaving his little face.

“You humans get a lot of stuff wrong, but Halloween is an exception. Some freaky stuff happens for real the night between the 31st and the 1st, and you feel it. Of course, leave it to the Americans to get it wrong and create that whole trick or treat thing.”

“What is it… what do I exactly feel?” he asked.

“The spirits, the dead… all that sort of bad stuff. You have the power of misfortune,” he yawned. “that’s why you feel weird. It’s like leaving a kid blindfolded in a bakery. He’s not going to see any of the cakes, but he will know that they are there because he can smell them and he’s gonna go and try to get them.”

The analogy only made Adrien’s sense of uneasiness grow: cakes and spirits were not to be compared. Ever.

“Yeesh kid, relax. Just stay off of trouble and you’ll be fine.”

Adrien did not relax after that. Actually, he became even more nervous and his senses seemed to amplify after what he had been told, as if his own brain now knew what to search for. It was terrifying.

Unfortunately, Plagg had decided that he was done reassuring him, and had started asking for Camembert, the _‘real thing he should have been worrying about_ ,’ as he put it. He had had to stop relying on him for the rest of the day, and he had ran out of his basketball class after school as fast as he could to run to his Lady.

He was sure the weird feeling would have been harder to notice with her around. Whenever they were together, the entire world ceased to exist for him, and his eyes had to fight hard in order to detach themselves from the girl he cared so much for. His mouth would curl up at her sight even on the worst of days, and he would often find himself wondering what good he had done for being blessed by her strong, addictive presence.

He loved her so much.

He felt his left foot falling into nothingness and had to jump back to regain his balance. He had somehow managed to reach the edge of the rooftop he was walking on, and his left foot had apparently decided that he needed to crash onto the street below. Adrien grimaced as he realised that he was still unconsciously walking over the same direction as before; not even the thought of his beloved Ladybug had been enough to calm down his instincts.

All his worries were put aside as an explosion was heard. His ears shot up and he ran on all fours towards the source of the many screams, hoping that Ladybug would already be there. Unsurprisingly, a young-looking akuma was making a mess in the top floor of the hotel Le Grand Paris. Chat Noir was ready to bet that whatever had happened had been Chloé’s fault.

As if to demonstrate that he was right, he managed to spot her blonde hair and yellow outfit, hiding behind a plant right next to the beautiful hotel’s pool. The akuma, dressed in yellow as well and wearing a black helmet, seemed to be searching for her with fury. Adrien couldn’t make out his features, as their face seemed to be dirty and black. It was almost as something had exploded in his face.

“Come out now, little princess… let me blow you up!” they screamed.

Chat Noir approached him silently, and searched for any signs of his partner. He sighed at the realisation that he would have to make sure the akuma would not hurt Chloé on his own, but still got himself on top of the luxurious hotel without being seen. He got out his staff, elongating it so that the akuma would trip on it, and kept himself at a safe distance while the latter got up, angry.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I can’t let you do that,” he smirked.

He assumed a fighting stand, planning to keep the akuma busy until Ladybug could get to him. The akuma turned around, and Chat Noir finally had the chance to better examine him: he was younger than he imagined, probably around 7 or 8 years old, and he had been right imagining that something had blown up on his face. His glance fell lower, noticing the belt full of bombs ready to be used.

He really didn’t want to fight a kid.

“I don’t know why you are doing this, but you should stop now.” He tilted his head, offering the boy his best smile. “I am even going to let you go without even fighting you if you promise to be nice, how does that sound?”

The bomb that was thrown at him was the only answer he received.

“Well,” he commented as he dodged it, elegantly jumping to the side. “I tried, didn’t I?”

The hero charged, holding his staff tightly in his hands. He dodged the bombs that were thrown at him with jumps that would have pissed off his Lady because of how pretentious and unnecessary they were. He could not allow himself to send the bombs flying with his staff, as they could have ended up in a street and explode there. The only thing he could do was avoid getting hit by them and hoping that they would not be strong enough to pulverise him. The jumps were kind of necessary then, and he liked to do things with style.

Out of nowhere, a sharp sensation in the back of his upper neck caused him to stop himself on his track. The now familiar tingly sensation was spreading throughout his entire body, and he felt every muscle tensing up as his head moved on its own, turning to his left. His eyes moved frantically to search for something that he didn’t know, and his breath was coming out uneven.

 _He had to get there._ His legs were begging for him to move them in that direction, and he could feel his fingers twitch nervously on their own.

Something was telling him that he couldn’t, that there was something important that he should have done, but he couldn’t remember what. What was there that was more important that reaching That Place anyways?

He didn’t know, he didn’t remember.

Adrien felt like he was underwater, with muffled sounds and slow and lazy movements. He was startled when he found himself thrown on the ground in the direction that was opposite to his goal.

An unfamiliar sensation overwhelmed his body: warmth. Someone was holding him, he realised.

He got up, ready to face them with anger because they were trying to get him away from That Place, but then he started to see again. Green plants were spotted by his green eyes, as well as a grey sky and a burnt floor. He realised that the latter was only a meter away from him, and wondered if it was there beforehand.

“Chat!”

A voice was calling to him. He had forgotten he could hear, he had forgotten everything.

“Chat Noir! Answer me!”

No, that wasn’t true. He hadn’t forgotten her.

“Lady.. bug?” talking was hard, so much harder than he imagined.

He realised that hands were holding his face. He moved his neck, allowing himself to see the person who they belonged to. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Ladybug, but got quite concerned over her troubled expression.

“What happened?”

“Chat!” she hugged him. “You just.. stood there. The bomb was coming at you and you just stood still... What happened to you? God, if I hadn’t made it in time.. If I…”

Now the burnt floor suddenly made sense. Ladybug had saved him from one of the akuma’s bombs.

Chat Noir was confused; he hadn’t felt anything until a moment ago, the weird sensation that he was getting used to hadn’t changed much when he had gotten to the hotel. He couldn’t explain to himself why it had had that sudden outburst, and he could not also explain how he hadn’t been blown up to pieces.

“Thank you, my Lady,” he grabbed her gentle hands, bringing them to his lips. “I owe you my life.”

Ladybug’s amusement was evident in her smile. “It’s all right. Let’s not make this a habit now, okay Chaton? How are you feeling?”

“Purrfectly fine now that you are here.” Chat was glad that she looked a little relieved. He gave the merit of his success to his amazing pun.

A shriek caused them both to jump to their feet, ready for action.

The akuma had found Chloé. Or better, Chloé had decided that running towards them crying for help was a better option than just hide. Honestly, the girl just _had_ to make everything harder, didn’t she?

“What are you two _doing?!_ Help me!”

Behind her, Adrien caught sight of a bomb travelling towards her. He didn’t think twice before rushing towards her, hands open and _Cataclysm_ charged. With a single touch, the threat disappeared, leaving him just enough time to see a dozen of other bombs rapidly approaching them.

Chloé was picked up with a shriek, and he started to run in order to avoid them. He nearly cursed when he realised that he was running out of space where to run to, but understood that he had no time to think if he didn’t want to get killed. Once reached the iron grating of the building, he jumped over it, leaving his body floating in the open air.

Chloé almost made him go deaf because of the scream she threw in his ear, but he still managed to get out his staff and make it grow longer. One end of it collided with the front façade of the hotel, and the other touched the dark asphalt on the road a dozen of metres away from them. The staff was positioned diagonally, so that it was possible for Adrien to use his own gloved hand, the one which was holding them away from certain death, to slide down. His hand burnt because of the friction of the metal against his skin and his arm threatened to give out because of all the weight that was on it, but his glove did not break.

Kwami suits were really something else.

Chloé pushed to get away from him as soon as her feet could touch the ground, and proceeded to yell at him. He just decided to sit through it, worrying about localising his partner and not particularly minding what she was saying.

“How could you even do that to me?! How could you even get your filthy paws on me without my permission?!”

No, her partner definitely was not at the hotel anymore.

“It was the only way to get both of us out of there safely.”

“Says who? You?” she laughed. “We both know here how brilliant your ideas usually are, don’t try to act like you actually had planned any of that.”

The buildings on the left seemed to be clear as well, he noticed.

“You were just really lucky that it all worked out just like you wanted it to. I’m sure Ladybug would have found a much better way to save me without endangering my life.”

“Your life was already endangered, Chloé. I really didn’t do anything to change that.”

He really couldn’t see her… could it be possible that she was travelling on street level? That would explain why he hadn’t spotted her yet.

“What if that stupid idea of yours ruined my clothes? Who is going to pay for that, huh?”

Adrien turned his gaze away from the street to look at the girl. It was incredible how ungrateful she could be, it always managed to get on his nerves.

“You want to talk about damage? Okay, let’s talk damage. Who has destroyed most of your hotel?”

“What, are you dumb? It was that ugly akuma of course!”

“And who was it that _caused_ the boy to turn into an akuma?”

Chloé pouted. “It’s not my fault that kid could not handle some _honest criticism_ on his costume! Honestly, he totally overreacted.”

“He is a _kid_ , Chloé, and you insulted his Halloween costume. Of course he overreacted!”

“Whatever. You clearly don’t know what you are saying and you are obviously very useless anyway, so why don’t you just-”

He noticed the bomb that was flying over their heads just in time. He grabbed Chloé, who threw herself at him and clinged onto his neck for dear life, and jumped back.

_Useless, huh?_

“Chat Noir! On your right!” Ladybug yelled, appearing on the scene as well and running just behind the akuma.

Chat Noir jumped the opposite direction, his ring beeping, and avoided the deadly weapons. Everything would have been rather easy if only Chloé hadn’t decided to put her head in his field of vision, crying and begging him to bring her back to her Papa safe and sound.

A short stinging in the back of his head threatened to make him stay still again, his own senses rapidly turning against him in order for him to leave Chloé behind and do whatever was needed from him. He found himself slowing down in his jumps, his body unconsciously moving towards an unknown direction.

Someone kicked him in the knee.

“W-watch where you are going, you idiot!” Chloé’s cries were hysterical. “Don’t get us both killed!”

Adrien snapped out of it: he bit the insides of his cheek, causing it to bleed, and the pain woke all the rest of his body up. His capricious limbs started to respond to his commands again, shortly followed by his eyes. He didn't know what was affecting him this much, but knew one thing.

_He had to get away from there._

After the explosion of a couple of other bombs, the floor underneath his feet made a noise he wished he would have not heard. He landed safely, Chloé still tightly wrapped around him, and observed the damage that the bombs had actually done to the street, only to understand that it was too late for him to do something about this.

He couldn’t do anything as the floor disappeared from below him, the old concrete finally giving out after all the damage that had been inflicted to it. Chat Noir attempted to reach his staff from his back, but his arms were too busy holding Chloé for actually doing anything about it.

The last thing he heard before the darkness welcomed him were Ladybug’s desperate call for him and Chloé’s scream.

* * *

He woke up to the sound of his beeping ring.

He was facing up against a close ceiling, which was completely made out of stones. It wasn’t until he regained the feel of the rest of his body that he realised that he was floating in water. He struggled, putting himself in a straight position, and discovered with relief that his feet touched with ease the uneven pavement. The water smelled terrible, and he deduced that he had had to have ended up in a sewer. That would also explain why the water only reached past his waist.

What he didn’t understand, however, was why everything was so dark. Of course, thanks to his night vision he was able to see clearly around him, but he could still recognise when somewhere was too dark for his tastes. It didn’t make sense: if he had fallen from the surface then some light should have been able to reach the sewer he was in right now. He looked around, and noticed that there was a big wall of stones just behind him which conveniently blocked any kind of exit.

 _Amazing._ Not only was he soaked in sewer’s putrid water, he also had no way of getting out of there.

Well, at least the absence of light had been explained. He figured that it was better to know than to be completely clueless in his situation.

Plagg made sure that his owner acknowledged his presence, and his ring beeped again. He glanced at it, suddenly too aware of it, and counted with relief the 3 paws that were left. He must have been unconscious for very little, he was glad to know that.

“Oh my god!”

The sudden yell made him lose one of his 9 lives. Seriously, what was it with Chloé and screaming?

“Chat Noir? Is that you?”

He turned towards her and relaxed at her sight. She was completely wet, her usually perfect ponytail now soaked and messy, black mascara falling down her cheeks, and her eyes spelled out fear to him. He felt sorry for her, even though she was the one who had caused all of this in the first place.

“Yes, it’s me.” She attempted to get to him, but he stopped her by taking her hand. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

“Where are we?”

“The sewers, I think. Or at least, they look like sewers to me.”

“They _look_ like sewers? How can you even see anything in this dark?!” There was irritation in her voice. Did she think he was making fun of her?

“I have night vision. I’m supposed to be a cat, remember?” he explained patiently.

Chloé mumbled a complaint, and he promptly ignored her.

“We need to get out of here,” he said before she could blurt anything else out. “Hold my hand, I’ll try to walk ourselves out of the sewers.”

It was the only thing they could do, really. Going back was not an option, and with only 3 minutes left of his transformation he knew he needed to use his night vision as much as possible. Hopefully they would get within a source of natural light pretty soon, and he could have let Chloé go on on her own while he found a quiet place where to detransform.

“Okay kitty cat, but don’t give yourself wrong idea.” her lips curled up in an all-knowing smile. “I’m _way_ out of your league.”

Chat Noir just looked at her, startled. What did that have to do with anything they were saying, exactly? Was she really so immature that she saw holding hands as such an intimate gesture? He had done it many times with lots of different people and had never thought too much of it. The only time his heart had skipped a beat because of something of this kind was when he was with Ladybug; with her, even the smallest of glances could be enough for his romantic fantasies and it could send him straight to paradise.

He wished his Lady could be there with him. That reminded him, she was fighting alone against that kid, he had to hurry. Ladybug could perfectly handle herself, he knew that, but he still could not brace the thought of her getting hurt because of his absence.

A cold chill ran down his spine, causing him to tighten his grip on Chloé’s hand, and the whole world shut down around him. He had gotten strangely familiar with the sensation of feeling nothing and simply existing, and thought that he somehow was experiencing what being dead must have felt like. He surprisingly didn’t mind that now; it felt good. The coldness was so welcoming and the dark so soothing, being dead wasn’t certainly bad.

Something that remotely sounded like a complaint was caught by his ears, but it sounded far away, surreal almost.  His head started to spin, the feeling in the back of his head making its appearance again, this time 10 times stronger than before.

Was he walking? He didn’t know, he had completely lost every sort of feeling of his body, but the sound of moving water seemed to suggest so. Then again, did it really matter if he was moving or not? Did it matter that someone was screaming at him, pleading something in a language he didn’t understand anymore?

No, it really didn’t.

He could hear steps now, his own he guessed. He wasn’t feeling cold anymore from his waist down, maybe he had gotten out of the water. He was going in the right direction this time, he could feel it. That Place was calling to him, an invisible force drawing him closer. He wasn’t even sure he was moving anymore: he felt like he was being pulled in by something.

It felt nice. It was dark, cold and dead, the thing which was holding him. He liked it, it made him feel at home.

His eyes caught the sight of some latin inscription, and the walls soon started to be adorned by picturesque skulls. It was silly, he didn’t know he could still see, and he also vaguely remembered someone telling him to stay away from graveyards. He had still managed to get himself in the catacombs, but that was nothing to be worried about.

He was getting close, he could feel the purifying sensation of death washing his skin, cleansing him from everything that made him alive. He felt complete, and he would have probably smiled if he still was in possession of a body.

He suited death and death suited him.

Suddenly, the coldness left him, a warm, thick sensation painfully reminding him of his own body. His legs gave out, and he was surprised at the loud noise his fall had produced. His senses had started, in fact, to respond to him again, and he was now too aware of everything that surrounded him.

Pain struck him, and he heard his voice die in his throat in an attempted scream. His head was going to be split in two at any moment, he could feel something inside of it pressing hard, almost as if trying to get out. He wheezed, trying to reach for his head with his hands, only to notice that one of them was not free.

His scared eyes widened in horror as he realised that he was still holding Chloé’s wrist: it looked bruised, and the girl seemed to be trying to be pulling away from him with all of her strength. She was holding something with her free hand, a shoe.  

“Let me go!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, “Let me go, let me go!”

Adrien did. He watched as the girl stumbled back, hitting a wall. She whimpered and held her arm close, trying to examine it in the dark. He grimaced at his own claws, holding back a scream of his own and realising that it had probably been their fault if her wrist was in that state. The ground below him was uneven, and he was so terribly tired and cold. The only source of warmth he could feel was coming from his cheek, and he used his hand to reach it, to see if it was real. He felt his stomach turn when his hand came away bloodied.

The pressure in his head was unbearable now, and he struggled to keep himself off the ground. It hurt so much, he could feel his throat tensing, struggling to get air into his lungs because of it. His teeth ached, while his tongue was sore, unable to move.

He wanted to die. It was not worth it, fighting was not worth this pain. He wanted to go back to the cold darkness again, to the death that had been so gentle to him. He could still feel it as it tried to draw him again in its empty bliss, and thought that maybe it would take him back if he begged hard enough.

His eyes intertwined with the empty cavities of some skull, and he remembered.

_‘Just keep yourself off graveyards.’_

His voice found a way out of his throat, a loud cry echoing throughout the dead walls of the catacombs. He used them to stand up, and did not mind when one of his claws made contact with the eye socket of some skull. He had to concentrate, he had to snap out of this trance.

His ring beeped again as he moved his attention to Chloé, holding onto the thought of her with all his might. He needed something to hold him tied to this world, something that could help him escape the numbness from before. Why was she holding a shoe? Could it be that she had been trying to hit him with that after he had forcefully dragged her until there? God, she must have tried to talk to him, she must have screamed to let go of her because he was hurting her. He had no one to blame but himself for not being able to listen to her.

“I’m-” it hurt to talk, but he didn’t care. He needed to apologise to her. “S-orry.”

Her blue eyes widened for a brief second, and her expression turned into anger in a split second. He was glad to see that she was fierce, lively as ever.

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” Chloé was panting heavily, furious.

Chat Noir opened his mouth again, his apology coming out a bit louder this time.

“I don’t want your excuses, I just want to get out of here and get a pedicure and new clothes, _now!_ ”

“I…” his voice was warming up little by little, but it still wasn’t easy for him to say what he wanted. “I will h-help you.”

He took an unsure step towards her, but that only seemed to frighten her.

“Stay away from me, you freak!” she got her shoe ready, running to the side, causing her to bump into something. “Sticks?” she commented as she heard the small pile of said objects collapse, the sharp noise echoing in the long corridor. “What are sticks doing down here?”

Too bad those were not sticks. They were bones, human femurs to be exact. Chat Noir decided to not tell her any of that.

His eyes fell onto something more important: a small sphere, not bigger than his palm, had come out from under the eery pile. It looked like it was made out of steel and glass, and it emitted a bluish light on its own. Shadows were sent dancing over the stone floor because of said light, and Chat Noir felt his teeth start to rattle.

That thing was the source of everything. The pain, the cold, the death that had tried to take a hold of him… everything was contained under the glass surface of that small object. His own senses seemed to scream to him to stay away from it, but he felt his own body being driven towards it, his legs shaking in anticipation to get to where Chloé was.

He watched with horror as Chloé noticed it as well, approaching it with a confident smirk.

“Well, would you look at that,” she kneeled down. “Looks like I don’t need your terrible night vision to get out of here anymore, do I?”

“Get away from it!” he was shaking like a leaf. She had to get away from it, they both had to get the hell away from there! “Chloé, don’t touch it!”

“No can do, kitty cat. Sorry, but I prefer going on my own and using this than staying with someone like you. I mean, I’m much more capable than you anyways, so I’ll find the exit in no time. No harsh feelings, okay honey?”

Before he could do anything, her small hands had already acquired the small object, greddingly holding it close. The glass shattered at the contact with the girl’s skin, and the content of the sphere escaped outside, crawling on the walls of the corridor. The substance was gas-like, but dense at the same time, and had managed to light up the whole room once free from its cage. Chloé screamed at the realisation that the wall, ceiling and floor were adorned with human body parts, and desperately looked at Chat Noir, not understanding the situation. Adrien could only stare back, dread in his eyes.

It was the end. He didn’t know how, but he knew it.

He doubted he was wrong.

The air became heavy, and his sensitive ears picked up menacing hisses traveling through the corridor of the catacomb. The shadows danced around the two teenagers; they watched as they were drained from their owners, only to all travel towards one direction: Adrien.

There, as his feet were drowning in a puddle of black, the boy’s eyes dilated in fear as the blue essence approached him, slow in its elegant movements. He discovered that he could not move or scream as it circled him, almost as if it was examining him. Whatever test he was being put through, he was praying every god that could come to his mind to let him fail it.

His body craved the blue essence. His arms would twitch whenever the gas would brush softly against his suit, his breath shortening as he was growing impatient for something that he didn’t know was coming. The gentle caresses became soon too affectionate, too personal for Adrien’s comfort. A soft moan escaped his lips and his shoulders raised, trying to allow the essence to embrace as much of him as it wanted. The fact that it felt so good disgusted him, and yet he could not deny the compatibility between his own body and whatever that could have been. His body was relaxing on its own, allowing the gas to make its way through every inch of his body and soul, and his own mind was slipping into a state of delicate numbness similar, and yet better than the one he had been in before.

It was with that state of mind that he felt it going inside him, reaching his core. Black spots appeared in his vision, but that didn’t worry him. He felt completed, satisfied. He had fulfilled his calling and was receiving his reward: the cold, blissed emptiness that he so much craved. It was weird, he had never thought one could feel so alive in death.

His ring beeped, a sound that belonged to a word that was not his own anymore.

He fell asleep, lulled by the darkness’ embrace.

* * *

When Chat Noir’s eyes opened again, Chloé was greeted by orbs that were too old to suit his youthful face.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless 8tracks and every person who creates playlists on there, this was made possible because of them. 
> 
> Writing in Chloé’s POV is… hard. She needs to sound bratty and selfish at all times, but she also needs to sound scared. 
> 
> Oh, I should also say that this story does take an even darker turn and may present themes that could not be suitable for some readers, so your discretion is advised. I’d like to point said themes out in the tags but that would just spoil the whole plot of this story, really. Reason why I will be putting some disclaimers in the endnotes of the chapters that I think could deal with some more sensitive topics. Don’t be afraid of contacting me through my tumblr if you have any questions regarding this! [naminamae.tumblr.com]
> 
> So yeah, CHECK THE END NOTES FOR THIS CHAPTER if you are afraid the themes that are explored in the story could be too much for you, or just come and have a little chat with me!

The eyes that were looking at her were ancient, she realised. She was being observed from head to toe with a patience that made her blood freeze in her veins, as if whatever was in front of her had all the time in the world at their disposal to just  _ look _ at her. For the first time in her life, Chloé was feeling uncomfortable in her own skin, an unfamiliar wish of disappearing from planet Earth resurfacing from somewhere within her. 

She didn't like that. Actually, she  _ hated _ it. 

There were only a few people in the world that were allowed to make her feel uncomfortable: one was his father, and the other was Adrien. The fact that this ghost of sort was doing this to her enraged her, but she could not move or find the strength to yell back at him. 

Chloé didn't believe in ghosts. She believed that the only thing that could come to own somebody were money and power, and the only supernatural exception she had allowed herself to believe in were Hawkmoth’s akumas. She had a very neutral opinion of any religious belief, and considered naive those who let those ideas guide their existence; doing everything the way she wanted, when she wanted and how she wanted was simply more logical and overall much more satisfying than a life of sacrifice for a questionable religious cause.

Her skepticism was futile, however, in the situation that was unfolding right before her eyes. That person, whoever was facing her at the opposite side of the eerie room she was in, was not Chat Noir. 

The superhero she was so used to mock radiated warmth and happiness, and, even though she would never admit it, he brought a feeling of security alongside with him. None of that was left, now: all that was present in the room were the dim, bluish lights, the palpable sensation of fear, and the unmistakable scent of death.

She whimpered when he moved, his head slowly tilting to the side as his mouth stretched in a soft smile. His eyes were still on her, and her legs refused to move. She found herself staring right into the threatening green ponds that seemingly knew her so well. She didn’t know whether to be reassured or scared when she understood that she was being looked at with amusement, as someone would look at a caged puppy in a dog pound.

_ Get out, _ she told herself.  _ Get out of there, run! _

But where to? She would have gladly left Chat Noir behind - her own safety came first, after all, and there wasn’t much she could have done for him anyway - but she had no idea of where she was or  _ where to run off to. _ Outside of the little hallway everything was engulfed by darkness and she was currently missing a shoe, since she had used it to defend herself from Chat’s moment of craziness. There was no way that she would just step into the putrid waters of the sewers with her naked, delicate, and pedicured foot, not even if her life depended on it. Her mascara and hair were already ruined, and she had no idea of what condition her clothes were in; she had suffered enough.

Chloé was at his mercy, she realised, and “Chat Noir” seemed to know it as well. He didn’t even bother looking at her anymore, and focused on his own self instead. Normally being ignored in that way, especially after having looked at her like that for so long, would have made her angry beyond reason, but for once she was actually glad that she was not the centre of the attention.

He studied his hands and feet, moving them around with the curiosity that was so usual of those annoying little children who just got excited over anything, and even tried to look at his back, particularly interested by his black tail. The smile was still present on his face as he ran his hands through his hair and face, stopping at the height of his cheekbones and ears to further examining them.

His eyes finally fell on his knuckles, and his grin softened at the sight of the black ring.

“A child of misfortune,” he commented, amused. It was a whisper, something that Chloé was not supposed to hear. “Of course he would be drawn to me.”

The small phrase was followed with a surprised hand reaching for his throat, delicate and gentle, and then widening, satisfied eyes.

He must have liked the sound of his voice. Chloé found that absolutely terrifying. 

She had never realised how frightening Chat Noir’s figure was, how terrifying his cat-like orbs, his curled up lips and sharp claws could become if seen from under another perspective.  

_ Child of misfortune _ , he had said. That’s what he looked like; someone that embodied the worst of the worst, someone evil. 

That was just another reason to get away from there, but she couldn’t find the strength to do so. Her legs wouldn’t move. Now that the idea of the pitch black, smelly sewers had started to appeal to her, her own body had decided to not respond to her. Could one be annoyed at herself? Because she certainly was at the moment, and she was not used to that. 

A flash of light blinded her, forcing her to close her eyes and engulfing the room in a bright green colour that took over the bluish lights for a second. Once she had found the courage to open them again, she had to hold herself to the wall - one that seemed to only be adorned with latin inscriptions and no skulls thankfully - to not fall on her knees. 

Before her, Chat Noir was no longer there; in his place, there was someone she knew well,  _ too well _ . There was also a flying black thing that looked too much like a rat, but she didn’t have time to look at that.

Adrien Agreste, or better, the _ body _ of Adrien Agreste was standing a couple of metres away from her.

Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir.

Chat Noir was not in control of his body anymore. 

The world began to turn around her, as if the hallway she was in was moving on its own, and something started to press from the bottom of her stomach to the tip of her throat. The feeling of nausea was accompanied with the shaking of her entire body, which now seemed to be unrestful as she made herself smaller and smaller against the stone wall.

The love of her life, the model that she so desperately had a crush on, the only one that she considered to be on her same level was Chat Noir, the superhero that she had so often mocked and disrespected. 

And he was in  _ danger.  _

Chloé was going to be sick; she wasn’t used to worrying for people, she always thought that her own self should be her main concern, but Adrien was one of the few people that had always deserved her attention and care, and the fact that she had no idea of what to do made her feel terrible. 

Something, a high-pitched voice caught her attention. Her eyes caught with disbelief what they had chosen to ignore a moment ago: the small, angry black cat - it wasn’t a rat in the end, and maybe she would have been glad for that in another situation - that was floating around Adrien. She watched as it literally attacked the boy, biting him on the arms where his skin was free of his white shirt, and hissed at him while she wondered what the _ heck  _ that was. Her head threatened another wave of vertigo and a horrible feeling of nausea, her mind too focused on trying to make sense of the many things that were happening around her. 

First, her foot was still bare on the ground, that was annoying. Secondly, she had been dragged down there without her permission, her clothes and makeup had been completely ruined as well. Thirdly, Chat Noir had gone nuts on her for some reason that  _ she still didn’t understand _ and he was now possessed or completely out of himself. And now she just found out that he was Adrien underneath the mask, and a flying black cat was attacking him with little success.

That was too much. She couldn’t take this. 

Adrien didn’t flinch when the small fangs pierced his skin; he merely eyed the creature, his pupils narrowing as he tilted his head to the side. He then grabbed it by its tail and threw it mercilessly on the ground, obtaining a small cry of pain.

“It is a pleasure to meet you here,” his voice was calm, but he did not manage to hide his confidence and amusement as he put a foot on the tiny monster, preventing it from escaping, “god of Calamity _ Plaga. _ ”

“Get out of my chosen!” the thing hissed. “Get away from him!”

So the thing even spoke fluent French. Chloé was going to go insane. 

“Now,” Adrien smiled, and this time he did not even try to hide the malice behind his words. “That is not the treatment that I was expecting from a fellow immortal such as yourself.”

“Were you expecting pastries and tea after having possessed my chosen’s body? Really?” 

Plaga, was it? Plaga didn’t sound scared. He was  _ sassy _ . And annoyed. And very, very angry. 

“I don’t know who you are and what you want, and I still don’t know how you managed to bring Adrien here,” he continued, “but you have to get out of him.  _ Now.” _

“Or what?” the blond’s tone was daring. His smile sent chills down Chloé’s spine. “You will  _ curse _ me?” his foot pressed harder on the small creature, making Plaga groan. “Don’t try to fool me, Plaga. I’m too old for that.” He brought his right hand up, observing his silver ring. “Your ring is what keeps you stable and tied to this world, but it is also your cage. You can’t do anything to me without using a vessel.”

Plaga gritted his teeth, furious. A black aura started to surround him, traveling on Adrien’s leg and around the room, reaching finally Chloé’s feet. As soon as she came in contact with it, a feeling of dread and fear spread throughout her entire body; her teeth started to rattle, her body to shake. That thing was concentrated evil, there was no other way to describe it. She felt as if her own body could have started to fall apart one moment to the other, and dark, horrible ideas started to cloud her mind, harsh voices screaming in her head in pure pain and despair. 

_ “Free my chosen. Do not make me repeat myself.” _

Too much, it was too much for her to handle. The voices were getting louder, more violent in her head as they fought one another to obtain dominance over her suffering. She pressed her hands to her ears in vain, trying desperately to make them stop, to somehow block them as her eyes narrowed in fear.

Adrien did not move. He simply eyed the black aura with interest, only to look again at the black cat underneath his foot. 

“I’m afraid I won’t do that. We will have to share this host for a while, whether you want it or not.”

All of a sudden, everything stopped. The aura retreated, joining again Plaga on the ground, the voices finally leaving a shaky Chloé behind. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Plaga was more quiet, now. He was defeated, possibly even tired.

Adrien grinned. “Finally deciding to acknowledge me, are we? Or maybe you understood that you need to cooperate with me if you want to _ protect _ your chosen?”

He didn’t receive an answer from the other. Adrien didn’t need one in order to continue.

“Names are a useless thing, really. Something that mortals use to try to establish their identity and identify what is around them to claim it as their own. I don’t need such a thing, but I was once named, just like you were.”

_ Throbbing _ , Chloé’s head was throbbing and hurting so, so badly. She was about to faint, she was too weak. But she couldn’t, not now; she felt as if her every move was what kept everything in balance and allowed her to not be noticed by the two figures, and she couldn’t allow herself to break the delicate equilibrium that was possibly keeping her alive.

“Why don’t you guess what I am?”

Plaga hissed. 

“ _ Fuck off. _ ”

She needed to hold on just a little longer, she could do it. Right?

“That’s a shame,” Adrien’s hand was now running through his hair again. “It would have been  _ fun _ to see you trying.”

Slowly, his head turned to the side, and his eyes fell on Chloé. 

“Ah,” he said as his right foot was moved in her direction, leaving an exhausted and hurt Plaga on the ground. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Chloé’s legs gave out, her figure hitting the floor hard as she began to wheeze. He was coming towards her, he wanted to do something to her and she didn’t know what, but her throbbing head couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t include a great amount of pain.

Her voice found a way out her throat, unsteady and scared. “S-stay away!”

She could feel her heart trying to break out free from her chest, beating fast as he approached her slowly. His calm was terrifying to no end, as if he knew that she had no way of escaping him. 

“Stay away from me!”

She just wanted to go home, she just wanted him to turn around and let her go to her Papa at home and sleep, sleep until her head would get better. She would wait to wash her hair and face, she would think about makeup and her beauty products later, once she was feeling good. But he didn’t want to do leave her alone, he wanted to do something to her and she didn’t know how to stop him. How could she send him away? How could she save herself?

She had to think. No, she couldn’t, she didn’t have the time, he was getting close! He was going to get her!

“M-my father is the Mayor! You can’t- he won’t let you get away with this!”

Hers had been an automatic reflex, something that had come to her in a moment of panic because of how often she had used it in the past. She never thought it could work or help her in any way.

But it did. 

Adrien stopped in his tracks and gave her a curious look, his head tilting to the side. She found herself swallowing hard as he closed his eyes for a moment and brought his hand to his temple. He stayed like that, deep in thought, for a good minute, time in which Chloé’s blood had completely stopped circulating through her veins. 

“That’s right,” he said. “You are the Mayor’s daughter.”

He stared at her, as if he was expecting something. She nodded. 

“And you are an old friend of Adrien… how cute. It’s nice to know that I might have a use for you now,  _ Chloé. _ ” She had never told him her name. How did he know her name? “Especially since you could reveal yourself to be quite the  _ useful hostage.” _

_ Hostage? _

She had no time to express any of her doubts, as he quickly moved towards her, ending up kneeled in front of her. He was staring right in her eyes as he pushed his hand forward, reaching for her left breast and pushing hard against it, until she could feel the echo of the beating of her uncontrollable heart reach the palm of his hand. Her right hand was grabbed as she yelped and tried to get away from his grip, utterly terrified, and placed on his chest, over his own heart. 

“Don’t- don’t touch me!”

“Hush, hush.” His face got closer to hers, his nose almost touching hers. His eyes had a malice that could not belong to anyone human, and yet he seemed calm. “I am not going to hurt you.”

Chloé didn’t believe that, not with his hand still on her breast and him being so  _ close _ to her. 

“My father... I’ll tell my father and he will- you will pay!” She struggled again, tears forming in her eyes. 

“Chloé.” His voice was firm and so, so calm. She didn’t like that, he didn’t feel human at all while talking like that. “I am not going to hurt you. I mean it.” He squeezed her hand tightly on his chest. “Listen to the beating of this heart, Chloé. Can you feel it?”

She breathed in, holding her breath. Sick, she was going to be sick again.

“This heart that is now mine as well, can you feel it beating against the palm of your hand?”

She could, but she didn’t know why it should have mattered. 

“Y-yes,” she tried to say.

“I want you to listen to it and breathe. I want you to calm down.”

She didn’t know why, but she did as he said. It was not like she had much choice anyway, but she found herself listening to Adrien’s steady heartbeat and long breaths, and soon enough, her own heart was attempting to calm itself to get to the same speed of Adrien’s. Her head was throbbing less now, she discovered, and her nausea had almost gone away. A sense of exhaustion was slowly taking over her as she sat in silence with whoever was inside of Adrien’s body now, calming herself down. 

“Do you want Adrien to live?”

Suddenly, she felt the tranquil, repeated beat disappear from underneath the palm of her hand, which was pushed harder on the boy’s chest. His eyes always locked on hers with an unchanging expression, observing her as she realised she couldn’t find any sign of his heartbeat. Drops of sweat started to drop from her forehead, and her body began shaking like a leaf under the strong grasp that was holding her pressed to the wall.

Adrien’s heart had  _ stopped. _

It had stopped, and he was just kneeled in front of her as if nothing had happened to him.

“I can kill him anytime I want, Chloé.” 

A familiar rhythm made itself present on the boy’s chest. Her body relaxed, the tension that she didn’t know she had slowly washing away from her shoulders. She started crying.

“I can hurt him, and I can hurt you as well.”

The hand that was on her breast suddenly moved to her sternum, pushing down against her ribcage with great strength and causing her to have trouble breathing. She wheezed between tears and sobs, her own hand attempting to push him away only to find that she couldn’t move him of an inch.

“If you want things to work out smoothly, you will have to do as I say.” His voice was like a cold shower on her; it left her trembling and cold, vulnerable. “You are not a stupid girl - maybe just a little selfish - so I’m sure you understand the situation you are in.”

The hand that was hurting her chest left her, causing her to slip down a little more towards the cold floor. Chloé turned to the side, freeing her grip from the boy and bringing her elbows to the ground as they sustained her. He was so unnervingly calm, still towering her with those green eyes of his, and she was just so, so tired and sick. Her breathing wouldn’t just go back to normal, and she didn’t know why; he hadn’t choked her, he was just applying pressure on her sternum, but the air that she inhaled just never seemed to be enough for her aching lungs. 

Everything was amplified around her: every breath Adrien took, every shift of his body made her jump out of her skin. As fear invaded her senses and her throbbing head didn’t leave her a minute of peace, she spotted him eyeing her from above, his face completely emotionless.

He wasn’t human.

He wasn’t human, he wasn’t human, he wasn’t human and she was so sick, sick, sick.

“You’ll do as I say,” he started, soft lips moving slowly away from one another. “You are not to tell anyone what has happened to Adrien, and you are to be at my disposal whenever I ask for your service.”

She didn’t feel good, she wanted to go home, away from him.

He wasn’t _ human _ .

“If you happen to disobey me, your friend dies. And rest assured,  _ I will come for your throat before I slice his. _ ”

She couldn’t breathe and she just felt so warm, she wanted it all to end. She had never lost consciousness before, but understood now what everyone meant when they said that it felt as if the world was shutting down around them. With her senses revolted against her and her aches, she just wished she could hurry up already and just faint. It was sheer torture, what she was going through: not only was she feeling awful, but she was also stuck with someone who could hurt her at any moment and had threatened of killing her. She almost welcomed the black spots that started to decorate the corners of her vision.

Voices sounded distant now and muffled, and things seemed to start to get blurry, unfocused around her. Adrien moved to his feet, approaching her and possibly attempting to communicate something to her, but she didn’t understand a word of what he was saying. 

Still, the unmoving, eternal eyes that scared her so much accompanied her through the journey of her loss of consciousness, never leaving her in their inhuman coldness while she laid on the cold ground. Thin lips that were pressed together twisted upwards, and his face darkened, his green orbs widening as they showed again the hidden, sadistic malice that she had grown to fear.

It was with the eerie sound of a poisonous laugh that Chloé finally drifted off to complete darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Chloé gets threatened and Plagg gets deliberately hurt. There is also a scene involving Adrien and Chloé being in a suggestive position, but it should not be considered as sexual; more than anything it is just a way in which she is threatened, and she is not sexually harassed or anything of the kind.


End file.
